


Let the River In

by oldmanhawke



Series: Let the River In [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Joffrey not depicted, Mention of Past Abuse, ambiguous time period, atonement-y, just mentioned, like the 20s?, or there about., something regency-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmanhawke/pseuds/oldmanhawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is unhappily married to Joffrey. Willas is the caretaker for their horses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the River In

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in a late night correspondence between friends. Crying over Willas/Sansa. She wanted Barn Smut. I obliged.  
> Unbetaed. Its not polished.
> 
> Song Title stolen off of Radical Face song.

They're discussing a particulary brutish stallion, Willas is saying how it needs to be kept away from the mares.

Sansa replies "Well he can't really be blamed. He is a man after all. And men cannot be blamed when they are presented with a prize so ripe for the taking, it's not his fault when he forgets his strength. It is only natural." She sounds like she believes it so much.

And Willas has seen the bruises of her wrist before, the one high on her cheek she tried to cover with powder, the split lip she tried to cover with red lipstick and he's so infuriated. He stops cold. "He can and he will be."

He looks sansa dead in the eye "I'll see to it."

He turns away then and resumes grooming the horse in short rough strokes. "No man has the right to take a woman before she desires it. Not even the most prized stallion." He says quietly.

Sansa feels like the breath has been punched out of her. "I.. I have.." She takes a step towards the door.

Willas turns and looks at her "Sansa, I.." He takes a step towards her.

She steps back. "I have to go. My husband will be home soon, I must prepare to greet him." And then she turns and runs as fast as is polite up the hill and into the house. She breaks into tears as soon as she is inside.

Willas's eyes are full of water in the barn, he curses and throws the brush into the wall. The horse flinches and shuffles on its feet. He curses once more then soothes the horse with a hand on its neck.

That night he goes to Garlan and Loras and gets drunk off his ass, they don't discuss why.

That night, Sansa finishes crying then pulls herself together again, fixing her hair and powdering her nose. She wears a pretty dress to greet Joff at the door and hopes he doesn't notice that her eyes water when she smiles at him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later, Sansa still hasn't gone back to the stables. Willas misses what used to be their nearly daily visits, Sansa coming into the barn, and Willas explaining the horses to her.

But on this day she goes. She can't entirely say why but she knows herself well enough to know that most of her motivation is missing him.

Willas doesn't notice her at first. He's murmuring to a pregnant mare, talking quietly about how he "Really must of fucked up."

Sansa asks what it was he's fucked up and he startles when he notices her.

"I.. nothing, Mrs. Baratheon. I.. Please forgive my crass language." He's reverting back to the severe politeness he was raised on, as he is wont to do when he doesn't know how to deal with a situation.

"Mrs. Baratheon? Since when have you ever called me that?" Sansa is both hurt and confused by the title, he has only ever called her Sansa. What has changed? Why is he acting so different? Does he regret that day a couple weeks ago, the day she fled?

She turns to leave, suddenly convinced he wants nothing to do with her, she must have misinterpreted his words, the look he gave her. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Tyrell."

Willas can see the hurt in her eyes. "Wait.. please don't go." She continues on until, "Sansa please." He says her name and it makes her stop and turn, the sound of her name coming off his tongue knots her stomach.

Willas moves to her, he turns her, a hand on her shoulder. And then she's in his arms, face buried against his sweaty work shirt and sobbing into his chest.

He reacts instantly, arms coming around her of their own volition and he's making soothing sounds, stroking her pretty red hair. He pulls her back, intent on saying something, doing something, soothing her or pushing back to an appropriate distance, but they meet eyes and there's no conscious effort or decision on either of their parts, they're just kissing, Willas's hands on her shoulders and her hands against his chest.

He pulls back "Is this, Is this okay? I would never want to.. to force." And sansa swears she loves him in that moment.

"I.. Please. Don't stop." And then theyre kissing again. And he's pulled her flush against his chest, her hands move up his neck into his hair, she pulls the cap of his head and runs delicate fingers through the curly locks.

Willas begins kissing down her neck, gentle and chaste, dragging chapped lips against petal soft skin.

Sansa gasps "Willas."

Joffrey never wastes his time with this sort of thing, only ever putting his mouth on her when he wants something to bite into when he comes, only wrapping his hands around her neck to get a better grip on her body, seemingly forgetting that she is even a conscious participant.

His name on her lips is what breaks him. He pulls back and they're looking into each others eyes again. "Tell me if you want me to stop." He says.

She nods, but he doesnt trust that, not after Joff. He holds the sides of her face and demands "Anything you don't want, anything you don't like, I stop. Promise me Sansa. Promise me." And he sounds so desperate that Sansa can't believe it. "I will." She promises, trying to force all she feels for him into those words.

Then she kisses him, sweetly, on the lips. She pulls him back with her, until her back hits the workbench. He helpes her up onto it, sliding in between her thighs, hands resting on her knees, just kissing her her softly, noses brushing.

Until Sansa bucks her hips up against him, the heat of her briefly against his hardness.

Suddenly things speed up again, his hands sneak up her skirt, gliding up the sensitive skin of her thighs, anxious to feel that wet heat her last move against him had whispered of.

When his fingertips connect with her folds through the thin cotton of her undergarments, she gasps. He looks her in the eye when he begins to remove the briefs. He refuses to let her feel at all like this is not under her control. When she makes no protest, he pulls the underwear off completely. His finger find her folds again and he glides them up her slit before finding her clit.

Sansa buries her head in his shoulder to muffle her cry, his calluses drag against her, despite the wetness.

He slips a finger inside her, thumb rubbing circles on her clit. He works her up that way, adding a second finger when he feels she is ready. She is beginning to writhe, begging "Willas.. Oh willas.. please."

His own erection is aching but he ignores it, content just with bringing her her pleasure.

"Willas please.. I... I..." She pushes at his chest then and Willas's blood runs cold, she wasn't begging out of pleasure, she wanted him to stop, how could he have been so stupid?

But then she is looking at him, holding onto his shirt so he cannot back away. "I.. I want you.. I want this with you. Please."

Willas feels the relief flood him.

He returns back to her, lips finding hers, speaking into her mouth. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, please. I want this, I want you."

Willas nods and kisses her again, harder, before a hands goes to his breeches, he frees himself of his confines and takes himself in hand, rubbing his tip agains her wet folds. They pull back to look at each other. With one hand on her back, mouths both open and barely brushing, he guides himself into her.

Her breath hitches. So does his. When he bottoms out, he groans and feels his eyes close, head dropping to hang against her collar bone. Sansa shifts and mewls at the sensation it brings her. He pulls back then thrusts back in, slow steady thrusts, never breaking eye contact.

Her breath hitches more and more. He can feel her climbing. He speeds slightly, using the hands on her thighs to pull her closer into him. When she comes, they are still looking at each other. Her elbow falters where it is holding her up upon the table, and her nails scrape against the wood. But Willas is there to catch her, wrapping both arms around her and thrusting thrice more before stilling and emptying inside her.

They sag against each other after that, Willas holding her against him as they crumple to the hay, his body breaking their fall. They spend long moments afterwards, catching their breath. Sansa running lazy fingers through his hair. Willas watching how the afternoon sunlight catches the gold in her red locks.

"I love you." He says without meaning to.

He feels suddenly enlivened by boyish devotion. He sits up rapidly. "Let me protect you."

Sansa know this is a terrible idea, Joff has power and Willas deserves nothing of what she would bring upon him. But even so, She finds herself saying "Okay."

Willas looks so relieved, he presses his face into her hair. Sansa does her best to keep the guilt at bay.

They lay there until the sky turns dusky. And then they get up, right themselves.

Before she departs back for the house, Willas stops her. "Only a couple day more. I promise. Just wait and try to keep out of his way."

She nods. "I love you." She says and it feels so different from when she says it to Joffrey.

"I love you." Willas replies, so much conviction in his voice. Then he watches her walk back up to the estate house. Plans already forming on how he can get Loras to lend him some money for boat tickets to America.


End file.
